Tainted Love
by BondSlave
Summary: Miss Watson is still pushing Norman to go to therapy, but Norma still says that there's nothing wrong with him. Norman is unsure. He doesn't feel as though there's anything wrong with him, but he really wants to get Miss Watson off his back. So, behind his mother's back Norman starts seeing a psychiatrist, one Dr. Hannibal Lecter. What will happen when Norma finds out?


Disclaimer:_ I do not own Bates Motel or Hannibal, nor do I own any related characters or themes. This is strictly for fun._

Authors Note: _So, since I started watching Hannibal this is literally all I could think of. I've liked the idea of Hannibal and Norman knowing of each other, and last night this came to me. Also, I am aware that Norman and Hannibal live on completely different coasts, but lets pretend Hannibal's office is only a thirty minute bus ride from White Pine Bay Enjoy._

Chapter One: What mother doesn't know won't kill her

Norman sat silently at his desk as the rest of the class began filing towards the door. He slipped his books back into his bag, eager to get to lunch; but just as he was standing and preparing to leave, he found Miss Watson stepping into his path. He paused and smiled politely as her strong perfume choked him slightly.

"Norman, I know that it's technically none of my business but I was curious about your therapy sessions. Are they helping?" She asked with a curious sparkle in her eyes as she smiled kindly at him. He shifted slightly, pulling his bag a little higher up on his shoulder as he felt a nervous chuckle get stuck in his throat. He hadn't been to any more therapy sessions since his first one, but he didn't think it would be wise to tell Miss Watson that.

"Oh uh, yeah." He said a bit nervously nodding quickly and licking his lips. "Um, but the sessions have stopped for now." He stated. Miss Watson frowned, her pretty red lips pouting slightly as she looked slightly up at him. Was that new lipstick? Norman found his eyes lingering on her lips. It really was a lovely shade of red.

"Why did the sessions stop?"

"I'm being recommended to a different doctor." He quickly lied; this seemed to sooth her and she smiled warmly at him again, gently placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. He glanced at it a bit nervously before smiling at her.

"Oh well I'm glad to know that you'll still be going. I think it will do you some good."

Norman felt a tiny bit of resentment twist in his stomach but he only nodded and smiled, stepping around Miss Watson slightly and walking backwards towards the door.

"Yeah, I'm sure it will." He said before nodding and turning to head to lunch. He felt bad lying to Miss Watson but at the same time part of him thought she deserved it; he wasn't crazy, his mother said he didn't need therapy. But, as he took his tray and located a table in the back of the school cafeteria he began thinking about Miss Watson's concerns.

Antisocial and withdrawn behavior. So maybe he was a little shy, quiet even; wasn't being different a good thing? He glanced around at his peers who all were enjoying their lunch in groups. He looked down at the thin sliver of meat on his tray. It looked a little old, and dry. He quickly smothered the meet with his mashed potatoes and gravy. Maybe that would help.

His mother always told him that being different was a good thing, that it made him unique. But when he looked around at others his age he began to wonder if it really was a good thing. Maybe he wasn't different; maybe he was just antisocial and withdrawn. With a sigh he stuffed a large forkful of meat and potatoes into his mouth, chewing quickly. Maybe he should look into more therapy sessions. Even if it was only to keep the teachers off of his back.

Norman sat at the dinner table poking at his peas while his mother babbled on at the kitchen sink scrubbing the dishes. He usually listened to her as she recounted her day to him but tonight his mind was elsewhere.

"Norman?"

He blinked and glanced at her; she'd paused in her washing and was looking back at him with a slightly concerned look creasing her brow, dishes forgotten. He quickly faked a wide yawn and stretched his shoulders a bit.

"Sorry, I'm just really tired." He lied, his stomach fluttering as his mother dried her hands on her apron and approached him, gently brushing his cheek. A soft smile graced her pink lips.

"How come?" She asked. Norman shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, a small smile tugging at his own lips as he gazed up at her.

"Guess just a lot of homework." He said as he stood, his mother's hand coming to rest on his chest. "I think I'll just go to sleep early."

"Alright. So long as you're feeling okay."

He nodded and her smile widened. "Sleep well sweety." She said leaning up slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, gently wiping away the lipstick smudge with her thumb.

"I will. Night." He said leaning down to hug her before turning and heading for the stairs. He didn't like lying to his mother, but if she really knew what was distracting him she'd be furious.

Once up in his room Norman removed his shoes before climbing onto his bed. Leaning down he pulled a phone book out from under the mattress and opened it to the bookmarked page. He ran his fingers down along the pages before pausing over the first number he'd marked with a highlighter. Pulling out his cellphone he dialed the number and pressed the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

He knew that he wouldn't get anybody, it was to late for office hours, but at least he'd get a machine. Once the machine had given him his instructions he pressed one to leave a message, "Hello Dr. Lecter, my name is Norman Bates and if it is possible I would like to schedule a preliminary appointment." He gave his cell number before awkwardly saying thank you and hanging up. He set his phone down and sighed. He really didn't like talking on the phone, it made him feel anxious for some reason. Laying back he gazed up at the ceiling. He sighed again, pressing his hand firmly against his sternum to ease the tension that had built up there. Well, at least this would be a start. If he didn't hear back from Dr. Lecter there were four other psychiatrists that he'd look into.

Two days later while Norman walked back to the motel from the bus stop his phone began vibrating insistently. Thinking it was his mother he quickly pulled out his phone, but came to a halt when he saw that it was the return call from the psychiatrists office. He quickly answered the phone.

"Yes hello?" He glanced around to make sure that he was lone. "Yeah, yes. You can? That's great, thanks, really. Uhmn yeah, this uh, next Friday? Oh, this Friday, tomorrow. Uhmn yeah, yeah that'll work. Thanks so much. I'll be there." He smiled a little to himself. "Bye." Hanging up his phone he stuffed it back into his pocket before continuing towards the house. He began nibbling his lip as he climbed the stairs. It would be a stretch to make it to his appointment, he'd have to catch the bus right after school. He'd have to tell his mother that he'd be late tomorrow; he'd need to come up with a good excuse.

The silence hung pregnant above the kitchen table, Norma eyeing Norman who sat a bit awkwardly in his seat, fiddling his hands between his knees as he starred at his half eaten meat loaf. He hated the silent treatment. It might have been worse than when she yelled.

"Is there no way you can get out of it?" She asked jerkily, resting her chin on the top of her knuckles as she looked at him, her own food untouched. Norman shrugged his shoulders.

"Miss Watson said that it would bring my grades up." He lied, his eyes darting around before coming to rest on his mother's face. "I really want to get a good grade at the end of the year." He mumbled. His grades were fine, they'd improved considerably since they'd first moved to White Pine Bay, but his mother didn't need to know that. Norma sighed and Norman felt his heart sink slightly. She was doing the thing; that 'you've seriously but me on the line' thing. Norman hated the thing.

"Okay, fine. I was just hoping that you'd help me with the motel after school but no that's, that's okay I'll do it." She said with a forced smile as she stood and walked out of the kitchen. Norman bowed his head and let out a sigh. He didn't feel very hungry anymore.

Once school was over Norman didn't hesitate to grab his bag and dash out of the school, careful to not actually run so as not to get in trouble. As he was descending the stairs a voice halted him.

"Hey Norman, wait up!"

Norman inwardly groaned and turned around, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the strap of his bag a little tighter. Emma was approaching him at her painfully slow pace, oxygen tank in tow. She smiled up at him. "So do you want to come over today? Or, I could come to your house." She suggested.

"Sorry Emma, but I can't, not today. I have stuff I have to do." He stated, his heart seizing up slightly as her smile faded. He felt bad for ditching her, but he really needed to go. He'd make it up to her later. He knew that he'd been neglecting her lately, and he did genuinely feel badly about it. "How about tomorrow? We could spend the whole day together." He suggested, trying not to sound to hurried or bounce on the balls of his feet. Emma blinked a few times before nodding, a small smile returning to her pale pink lips.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

And without any further exchange Norman turned and dashed towards the street. The bus stop was to far from the school but he didn't want to chance missing it. He let out a sigh of relief when he came to a halt at the bus stop just as the bus was rounding the corner and coming towards him. He bent over slightly panting, holding a stitch in his side as he tried to regain his breathe. He was lucky. He'd hate to miss his appointment, that would be rude, considering that Dr. Lecter was taking time out of hi schedule to talk with him.

"Alright, have a good evening, I will see you next week." Hannibal said with a faint smile and a nod as he bid his patient goodbye. Stepping back into his office he closed the exit door and crossed to his desk. He flipped open his notebook and examined the rest of his schedule. His dark eyes roamed over the neatly written notes. Norman Bates was to be his next patient, well, for at least the day. It had been awhile since he'd taken on a new patient, which is the only reason he'd even considered seeing Mr. Bates for the consultation. Glancing at the clock on the wall he rounded his desk towards the waiting room door. Opening it he leaned out slightly. "Norman Bates?" Hannibal's eyes fell on the figure who stood from the corner chair, fumbling with his bag and jacket as he reached a hand forward. Hannibal straightened slightly but accepted the other's hand.

"You are Norman Bates?" He inquired.

"Y-yes."

Hannibal glanced around the waiting room to find it empty. His dark brown eyes returned to the short, thin, nervous looking teenager.

"Do come in." He invited stepping aside to permit Norman to enter. The youth nodded his head in thanks as he stepped into the office, his head craning this way and that as he took in the large room.

"Norman, may I inquire as to where your parents are?" Hannibal asked as he offered to take Norman's coat and bag. Norman blinked before handing them over with a quiet thank you.

"My mother's at home."

"And your father?" Hannibal inquired as he hung up the jacket and bag before ushering the youth to the plush chair opposite Hannibal's own. Norman sat awkwardly, his fingers fiddling between his knees as his eyes still darted around the office, soaking everything in before coming to rest on Hannibal.

"He died. About a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Hannibal said with a slight bow of his head. "I did not mean to intrude."

"Isn't that what psychiatrists are supposed to do?" Norman asked with a slightly quirked smile that made the corners of Hannibal's own lips twitch up slightly.

"Only when given permission." He stated before crossing his legs and folding his hands on his lap. He examined the youth for a short moment before deciding to be blunt.

"It is quite irregular for me to consulate for a teenager without a parent present."

Norman bowed his head slightly, shifting in his seat, nodding that he understood.

"My mother, she uh, doesn't know I'm here." He confessed quietly. Hannibal quirked a brow and tilted his head ever so slightly.

"Why is it you've come to me today Mr. Bates?"

"Norman, please."

"Norman."

Norman sighed, feeling the anxiety and tension throbbing in his chest. It was strange, he felt as though he'd never actually spoken to a therapist before; probably because when he'd actually gone to a session his mother had been there and she'd done most of the talking. Deciding to be perfectly frank, he made eye contact with Dr. Lecter.

"My mother and I are relatively new to the area, still settling in; trying to that is. Well, my teacher at school has been pushing my mother to send me to therapy for a few months now. Say's I'm, withdrawn and anti-social." Norman smiled nervously, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "My mother says there's nothing wrong with me, and, I don't think there is either. I mean, is there anything wrong with being a little quiet?" He asked. Hannibal shook his head.

"There are many quiet people in the world. Quiet makes most people uncomfortable, and as such quite people tend to give off a sense of unease to people who find the quite disconcerting."

"Well, my mother did take me to therapy. Once." He smiled. "I didn't actually get to say much. Mother's so convinced that there is nothing wrong with me that she won't even let me speak to a therapist, afraid they'll find something I say odd. I think she's afraid that someone will take me away from her."

"Has she always had this fear of separation?"

"I guess, maybe. It's just, I'm all she has. She says I'm the only good thing in her life. And I don't mind, I love her. She's, everything to me. But if there is a problem, something that is off, I'd like to know. I'd like to fix it." She shrugged his shoulders. "But mostly I just want to get my teacher off my back." he shifted uncomfortably at the thought of Miss Watson, of her red lips, and her strangling perfume. He suddenly felt quite warm and he tugged on his collar slightly.

"Why don't you tell me about your father, and the relationship that you had with him, or even your mother." Hannibal suggested as he picked up his notebook and pen. He rarely took notes during therapy sessions, but during a consultations he always took precise notes. It was the easiest way to get to know a new patient, and Hannibal always enjoyed familiarizing himself with new patients.

Norman shifted awkwardly again, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Hannibal. Norman bounced his leg a little, twiddling his thumbs before rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants. He glanced around, his eyes wandering as he tried to think of what to say, where to start, what not to say. Should he say everything? He knew that it hardly mattered now, his dad was dead.

"Dad was a bit of a lay about. He worked, but we never had a lot of money. Money was always the biggest issue with him. There was never enough of it, we were spending to much." Norman's fingers twitched slightly as he crossed his legs, subconsciously mimicking Dr. Lecter. "He'd always get really angry whenever mom would buy anything. She kind of likes home decorating, so sometimes she'd buy little things for the house. You know, to liven it up a bit. That always made him angry."

"And whenever your mother would bring home these items and your father would get angry, would he ever become physically rough with you?"

Norman scratched at his shirt sleeve, quickly shaking his head.

"No. He yelled at me, threatened, but he never, no he never hit me. He always took it out on mom." Norman's voice hitched slightly. "Sometimes he'd hit her, or slap her. It, it was never anything more serious than that... ...until, well up until he died." Norman bowed his head slightly. "I don't remember the fight, or the reason behind it, but he got really angry, and... it was bad, I..." Norman looked back up shaking his head, his eyes slightly distant as he tried to recall the memory. "I must have left the room. Sometimes I'd leave the house when they got really bad, or I'd go to my room." He nodded. "I went to my room, I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, I found my dad. A work bench fell over on him." Norman sniffed slightly. "Sorry."

"Do not apologize. Finding a parent in such a scenario would be quiet traumatic. And it is obvious, that even though your family life was not ideal, that you cared for your father. You are still grieving him."

"I guess it's because he was always there. I mean, I don't miss him... but, I didn't want him to die." Norman shook his head and inhaled deeply, gathering himself a bit. "I was always closer to my mother. I guess she always understood me better. Let me express myself."

Hannibal continued to jot down notes while Norman spoke, occasionally glancing up to make a comment or ask a question. It was obvious just by Norman's behavior that he suffered from anxiety, perhaps social anxiety, although he was currently opening up easily enough. Hannibal suspected that the anxiety was connected to Norman's mother. Although Hannibal had been close with his aunt and could understand the longing to be honest and close, he could see the affects that longing was having on Norman. It was making him nervous, jumpy, anxious.

As the hour came to a close and Hannibal handed Norman his coat and bag to him near the exit he came to the conclusion that he would enjoy having Norman as a patient. He could tell that there was more to the boy than meets the eye, hiding just beneath the surface, and that intrigued him.

"So Norman, should I schedule another appointment for sometime next week?" He inquired as the youth slipped on his jacket and shouldered his bag. Norman offered him an awkward smile.

"I'd really like that Dr. Lecter, I find it easy to talk to you. But I don't have any money. I guess I didn't really think this whole therapy thing through. I'm sorry to say no, that won't be necessary." The disappointment in Norman's voice was mirrored in Hannibal's chest cavity. But always the quick thinker, Hannibal waved Norman's comment away.

"Do not worry. I want to help you Norman, and I am sure that we can come to some form of agreement." He said with a smile. Norman's eyes brightened and he smiled.

"Really? You'd really be okay with that?"

Hannibal nodded.

"Yes. I will schedule your next appointment for next Friday, same time. We will discuss method of payment then."

"Thank you Dr. Lecter! This is great, I'll see you then." Norman said beaming as he turned and headed for the door. He felt confident about his therapy sessions with Dr. Lecter, and didn't even worry about what he'd tell his mother while he waited for the bus.


End file.
